


Really, It Was Obviously Steve's Fault

by TintedPink



Series: 13 Days of Halloween 2018 [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon? What Canon?, Domestic Avengers, M/M, Stephen is a good boyfriend, avoiding medical, if domestic avengers involved Stephen Strange, non graphic depiction of injury, post battle fic, timelines? what time lines?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TintedPink/pseuds/TintedPink
Summary: Tony is hiding some injuries from a battle. Stephen is not impressed.





	Really, It Was Obviously Steve's Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Is it day 4 already? Where has the time gone? Anyway, prompt was [Warm Knitted Clothing/"Is that blood?"](https://iwritefanficsometimes.tumblr.com/post/179157044319/13-days-of-halloween-writing-challenge) and I used both of them. I know the title say's Steve, but he's a side character, so don't get your hopes up for some Stephen-Steve fighting over Tony. Because that's not what this is. That will be another fic.  
> Set in a time before nano-tech can apparently just heal giant stab wounds. Think domestic Avengers, but if Stephen was also there. Concerned Doctor Stephen and terrible patient Tony is my actual weakness.

 

It’s the middle of October and Tony is tired. They just got finished fighting a crazy guy with an exosuit, thankfully not modeled on Tony’s armor, and all he wanted was to curl up on the couch with his boyfriend in his stupidly warm sweater that had been a gift from Captain Domestic last Christmas and watch shitty movies where the protagonist was actually the bad guy and he and Stephen could judge them. That was all he wanted. Tony had made coffee, the really nice coffee that he saves for special occasions so that it continues to be something is special, and someone was bringing them pastries in less than five minutes, so what the hell was Stephen even yelling about?

 

“Is that blood!?” Stephen asked, but he’s a lot less excited than say... Steve Rogers would have been. Compared to his usually cool demeanor though, the fear and anger are really noticeable.

“No.” Tony responds automatically, one hand moving to cover his eyes like a damsel in distress, hoping to earn some sympathy points.

He earns no such points as Stephen stalks forward and pulls up the very comfortable sweater to show the shoddy gauze work across Tony’s left abdomen. It was apparently already leaking through the off white sweater, and Tony was officially blaming Steve for not choosing a more practical gift, like a blood red sweater, or a black sweater. It was obviously Steve’s fault, and that asshole of an assassin he called a boyfriend had probably put him up to it. Traitors, the lot of them.

“Tony.” Stephen said, exasperated, and Tony really didn’t want to feel the roiling guilt in his chest, but he did. He definitely did because he took what was supposed to be a nice evening on the couch and ruined it because he didn’t put enough gauze on. Figures. Tony is only allowed to have nice things that he can buy. He’s not allowed to have nice things he has to put physical and emotional effort into. Like nights on the couch after shitty battles where his ribs hurt and he just wants to be still and quiet.

“Stephen,” Tony whined, not even trying to wiggle away, because the last time that he’d done that Stephen had sicced the cloak on him. He maintains to this day that it was foul play, but Stephen kept arguing about how profuse bleeding and refusing treatment was a valid reason to tie his boyfriend down outside of the bedroom, and Tony didn’t really have an argument after that.

“Tony, why didn’t you tell me?” Stephen asked, barely shaking fingers just ghosting over the mess of tape and gauze. It was also possible that Tony had a concussion and seeing straight had been difficult while he was trying to wrap himself up.

“I didn’t want you to worry, it’s not that bad.” He tried to defend himself, but but the judgmental silence accompanied by careful removal of his gauze told him that Stephen wasn’t buying it.

“If it’s bad enough that you needed more than a band aide, someone should have seen it.” Tony winced as Stephen peeled back the gauze that was sticking to the open wound in places where he hadn’t put enough, or possibly any, antibiotic cream. “Shit, Tony, this is an open wound. You might need a couple stitches.”

“Well, the gauze was holding me together just fine until you came along.” He yelped as Stephen pinched the skin together and replaced the gauze.

“Barely. Get up, we’re going to medical.”

“Stephen!” Tony whined, but he could see the cloak mobilizing out of the corner of his eye, so he made a move to get up off the couch.

It was slow going, but eventually he was vertical enough for Stephen to help him to the elevator, the wooziness from the concussion certainly wasn’t making it any easier. And apparently there were two of Stephen, but Tony knew that was a trick Stephen could do sometimes, so he told himself it wasn’t part of the concussion.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you.” He said as he pushed the button to the elevator. Funny enough the post mate that Tony had ordered with their baked goods was just arriving.

“Yes, give me!” he said, reaching forward only to wince at the pain in his side. “Shit, Stephen, give me.” He whined, clutching his side.

“You’ll find payment on the table, leave the bag there and collect it before the elevator returns. If you snoop or tamper with anything I will know, and I will be very upset.” Stephen said, waving the twenty something out of the elevator so that he could get with Tony.

“Stephen, no, I want them now.” He was already having a bad day. Couldn’t he at least have his cinnamon smothered, blueberry filled cream cheese pastry? Was that so much to ask for?

“You can have them as a reward for going to medical.”

“But they’ll be cold!” Tony protested as the elevator doors closed on them.

“And that’ll be your punishment for going to medical in the first place.”

“Stephen.”

“Oh, stop.” Stephen pressed an unusually tender kiss to Tony’s temple, which would have been really nice if his entire head didn’t feel so damn tender.

“I just wanted to have a relaxing night in.”

“And you will. After we make a stop at medical.”

Tony groaned and buried his face in Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen just chuckled as the elevator doors opened. “Put a zero on the number of days without an Avenger lying about an injury.” He said as he encouraged Tony out of the elevator.

“Aw, man. I had a record going!” Clint said indignantly, and Natasha clicked her tongue beside him.

“This isn’t an excuse to break your personal streak. I haven’t had to drag you to medical in weeks, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, from where he was hovering over Barnes as his broken right arm set. The doctors had to watch it because the healing happened so fast that it was likely to set itself in correctly without regular adjustments. “He said he was fine.”

“Well, he’s a liar. He’s going to need a couple of stitches.” He said to one of the physicians on staff, and she nodded and started to prep.

“I don’t need stitches, those little butterfly band-aids will work fine.”

“You can’t put those on that wound and you know it. Sit down.” Stephen directed Tony onto a hospital bed, and Tony tried to shoo away a nurse when she started to shine a light around.

“I just need to check for signs of a concussion, Mr. Stark, really, it’s all standard.”

“No, you don’t, because I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine. Give Stephen a band-aid for my ouchie and then let’s go.” He directed the last part at Stephen who was particularly unimpressed.

“You have a concussion, don’t you?”

“I don’t, know, Strange, you’re the doctor.” Tony shot back with more venom than he’d really intended.

“You have a concussion.” Stephen stepped forward and for a second he thought maybe he was trying to cop a feel in the middle of medical which, hot, but no. He was stealing Tony’s phone out of his pocket. Not fair. “No screens.” He declared.

“You don’t even have a medical license anymore, you can’t do that.”

“I don’t need a license to be a good boyfriend. Now, take off your shirt so we can look at your wound.”

“Pervert,” Tony muttered under his breath without any heat, wincing at the way his skin tugged when he lifted his arms over his head.

“Is that the sweater I bought you last Christmas?” Steve asked from across the room, looking kind of happy about Tony actually using his completely impractical gift.

“Yes, and if you have bought it in a different color maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. Thanks a lot.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Stephen said without even looking back at Steve, pressing at Tony’s shoulder to get him to lay down. “Come on, lay down. The sooner we get this over with the sooner you can have whatever the hell you ordered.”

“Yeah, I can have. Me. Singular. You can’t have anything. And I ordered from the bakery you like.”

“What ever will I do without pastries?” Stephen asked, rolling his eyes and grabbing Tony’s hand before he can bat at the doctor trying to look at his wound. Tony looked up at him, then at his hand in Tony’s.

“We don’t hold hands often enough.” He said, lifting it up and spinning it around in his line of sight, fascinated.

“Oh yeah, that’s a concussion. He hides it well.” Clint said, and Tony stuck up the middle finger of his hand still twined in Stephen’s. Stephen rolled his eyes but leaned down to kiss him anyway.

“Not from you, apparently.” He grumbled, and Stephen chuckled.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on [Tumblr](https://iwritefanficsometimes.tumblr.com/post/179329504509/really-its-obviously-steves-fault)  
> [Follow me](https://iwritefanficsometimes) there for more of whatever is going on! :)


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